


Hell House (SEASON ONE, EPISODE SEVENTEEN)

by ackles_ass_equation



Series: Superghetto [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon, Episode: s01e17 Hell House, Screenplay/Script Format, hellhoundslair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:50:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackles_ass_equation/pseuds/ackles_ass_equation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam n' Dean rewind tha case of a maniacal pimp inhabitin a long-abandoned Texas farmhouse known as "Hell House." They believe tha pimp is tha spirit of a thugged-out deceased Depression-era farma whoz ass capped his crew yo, but they soon realize it is suttin' far mo' powerful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. NOW

RICHARDSON, TEXAS. TWO MONTHS AGO. NIGHT.

Three muthafuckas, one holdin a torch, n' a girl, strutt along a muddy path.

**GUY 1  
** Come on dude, is it much further, biatch? I be cold.

**GUY WITH TORCH  
** It should be just up here.A deserted cabin comes tha fuck into focus all up in tha mist.

**GIRL  
** Whoa.

**GUY WITH TORCH  
** There we go.

**GUY 2  
** How'd you find dis place anyway Craig?

**CRAIG  
** My fuckin cousin holla'd at mah crazy ass bout dat shit.

**GIRL  
** I be so not goin up in there.

**CRAIG  
** Wuss'. We came all tha way up here may as well check it out.

**GUY 1  
** Letz just hurry dis up n' git back ta tha hoopty all right, biatch? It aint nuthin but friggin cold up here.

CRAIG n' GUY 1 move ahead.

**GUY 2  
** (To girl) Yo ass want me ta git freaky wit yo' hand?

Girl be thinkin bout it then takes his hand.

**GUY 2  
** Is there ... any other parts I can hold, biatch? 

**GIRL  
** Eww! (Hittin him) Shut up, you weak-ass muthafucka n' shit. 

**GUY 2  
** (Laughing) Come on! What?!

Inside. Da flashlight shows weird symbols on tha walls.

**CRAIG  
** No way. Look at dis stuff.....Come on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It aint nuthin but dis way.

They move tha fuck into another room.

**CRAIG  
** They say dat it lives up in tha root cellar. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Well shiiiit, it goes afta hoes fo' realz. Always hoes. Well shiiiit, it just, strings 'em up.

**GUY 1  
** They say, biatch? Whoz they, biatch? Where'd you hear dis crap?

**CRAIG  
** I holla'd at you, mah cousin.

**GUY 1  
** And where'd dat freaky freaky biatch hear it?

**CRAIG  
** I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch just heard dat shit.

**GUY 1  
** (Smirking) Whatever n' shit. Gimme dat thang. (Dude grabs tha flashlight.)

Dude opens tha door ta tha basement n' goes downstairs. Da others follow mo' slowly.

**GUY 1  
** Ooooh look. It aint nuthin but tha evil root cellar. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Yo ass know where Satan cans all his vegetables. Come on, git yo' candy ass down here n' peep fo' yourselves. It aint nuthin but just a funky-ass basement full of skank-filled jars up in some crap farmhouse. I don't peep anythang freaky. (laughing) Do yo slick ass?

Da others join his ass n' look around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They freeze, lookin over his shoulder, terrified. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

**GUY 1  
** What, biatch? (pause) What, biatch? What tha fuck iz it?

Dude slowly turns around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A hoe hangs from tha raftas yo. Dude screams.


	2. ACT ONE

INTERSTATE 35. PRESENT DAY 

_Music: Blue-ysta Cult- Fire of Unknown Origin_

Da Impala cruises past a sign: Big Texas Towin n' Salvage yard.

DEAN is rollin yo. Dude looks over n' sees SAM chillin wit his crazy-ass grill open. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude feels round then gently places a plastic spoon up in SAM'S grill. Grinning, he flips open his beeper n' takes a photo, then turns tha noize up loud.

 **DEAN  
** (Singing) Fire...of unknown origins...took mah baby away hommie!

SAM jerks up, realises suttin' is up in his crazy-ass grill, panics n' waves his thugged-out arms as da perved-out muthafucka spits it out. DEAN air beats along ta tha cold lil' woo wop on tha steerin wheel then looks over, grinnin as SAM wipes his crazy-ass grill n' turns down tha music.

 **SAM  
** Ha ha, straight-up funky.

 **DEAN  
** heh heh heh. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sorry, not a shitload of scenery here up in Eastside Texas, kinda gotta make yo' own.

 **SAM  
** Man our asses aint lil playas no mo' Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. We not goin ta start dat crap up again.

 **DEAN  
** Start what tha fuck up?

 **SAM  
** That prank stuff. It aint nuthin but stupid, n' it always escalates. 

 **DEAN  
** Aw, whatz tha matta Sammy, scared you goin ta git a lil Nair up in yo' shampoo again n' again n' again huh?

 **SAM  
** All right, just remember you started dat shit.

 **DEAN  
** Ah ha, brang it on baldy.

 **SAM  
** Where is we anyway?

 **DEAN  
** A few minutes outside of Richardson. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Gimme tha lowdown again?

 **SAM  
** (Reading) All right, on some month or two ago dis crew of lil playas goes pokin round up in dis local hustled house.

 **DEAN  
** Haunted by what?

 **SAM  
** Apparently, a pimpin' misogynistic spirit, n' I aint talkin bout no muthafuckin Jack Daniels neither. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Legend goes, it takes hoes n' strings dem up in tha raftas fo' realz. Anyway dis crew of lil playas peep dis dead hoe hangin up in tha cellar.

 **DEAN  
** Anybody ID tha corpse?

 **SAM  
** Well, thatz tha thang. By tha time tha cops gots there tha body was gone. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So cops is sayin tha lil playas was just yankin chains.

 **DEAN  
** Maybe tha cops is right.

 **SAM  
** Maybe yo, but I read a cold-ass lil couple tha lil playas firsthand accounts, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. They seemed pretty sincere.

 **DEAN  
** Where'd you read these accounts?

 **SAM  
** (A lil embarrased) Well, I knew we was goin ta be passin all up in Texas. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, umm, last night, I surfed some local ... (quickly) paranormal joints fo' realz. And I found one.

 **DEAN  
** And whatz it called.

 **SAM  
** HellHoundsLair.com

 **DEAN  
** Lemme guess, streamin live outta Momz basement.

 **SAM  
** (Grinning) Yeah, probably.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah. Most of dem joints wouldn't know a pimp if it bit 'em up in tha persqueeter n' shit. 

 **SAM  
** Look. We let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by tha way fo' realz. And now our phat asses don't give a fuck where tha hell he is, so meantime we gotta find ourselves suttin' ta hunt. Therez no harm checkin dis thang out.

 **DEAN  
** All right. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So where do we find these kids?

 **SAM**  
Same place you always find lil playas up in a hood like all dis bullshit.  
  
...............................

EXTERIOR. NIGHT. FAST FOOD OUTLET 'RODEO DRIVE'.

Da Impala pulls up.

Snippetz of tha playas dat was all up in tha Hell Doggy Den bein rap battleed.

 **GUY 1  
** (At outside table) Dat shiznit was tha scariest thang I eva saw up in mah game, I swear ta Dogg.

 **GUY 2  
** (all up in tha servin hatch) From tha moment we strutted up in tha walls was painted black.

 **GUY 1  
** Red.

 **GIRL  
** (at inside table) I be thinkin dat shiznit was blood.

 **GUY 1  
** All these freaky symbols.

GUY 2 Crosses n' stars and...

 **GUY 1  
** Pentagons.

 **GUY 2  
** Pentacostals.

 **GIRL  
** Whatever, I had mah eyes closed tha whole time.

 **GUY 1  
** But I can damn shizzle rap dis much. No matta what tha fuck anybody else say... 

 **GIRL  
** That skanky girl.

 **GUY 2  
** With tha black...

 **GUY 1  
** Blonde...

 **GIRL  
** Red hair, just hangin there.

 **GUY 1  
** Kicking!

 **GUY 2  
** Without even moving!

 **GIRL  
** Bitch was real.

 **GUY 1  
** One hundred cement.

 **GUY 2  
** And kinda hot. Well you know up in a thugged-out dead sort of way.

 **DEAN  
** (lookng at SAM wit eyes raised) Ok!

 **SAM  
** And.... how'd you smoke up bout dis place anyway?

 **All THREE SITTING TOGETHER NOW. (Simultaneously:)**  
Craig.  
Craig.  
Craig took us.  
  
.........................

INTERIOR. MUSIC SHOP.

SAM n' DEAN enter.

 **CRAIG  
** (Behind counter) Fellas. Can I help you wit anything?

 **SAM  
** Yeah, is you Craig Thurston?

 **CRAIG  
** I am.

 **DEAN  
** Well our crazy asses hustlas wit tha  _Dallas Mornin News._  I be Dean, dis is Sam.

 **CRAIG  
** No way. Well I be writa like a muthafucka. I write fo' mah schoolz lit magazine. 

 **DEAN  
** Well, phat fo' you Morrissey.

 **SAM  
** Umm. Us dudes bustin a article on local hustlins n' rumor has it you might know of one.

 **CRAIG  
** Yo ass mean tha Hell House?

 **DEAN  
** Thatz tha one.

 **CRAIG  
** I didn't be thinkin there was anythang ta tha story.

 **SAM  
** Why don't you tell our asses tha story.

 **CRAIG  
** Well, supposedly back up in tha '30s dis farmer, Mordachai Murdoch, used ta live up in dis doggy den wit his six daughters. Dat shiznit was durin tha Depression, his crops was failing, da ruffneck didn't have enough scrilla ta feed his own lil' thugs. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I guess thatz when da thug went off tha deep end.

 **SAM  
** How?

 **CRAIG  
** Well, he figured dat shiznit was dopest if his wild lil' freakadelic hoes took a dirt nap quick, rather than starve ta dirtnap. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So he beat down dem wild-ass muthafuckas. They screamed, begged fo' his ass ta stop but he just strung 'em up, one afta tha other n' shiznit fo' realz. And when da thug was all finished he just turned round n' hung his dirty ass. Now they say dat his spirit is trapped up in tha doggy den forever, stringin up any other hoe dat goes inside. 

 **DEAN  
** Where'd you hear all this?

 **CRAIG  
** My fuckin cousin Dana holla'd at mah dirty ass. I don't give a fuck where dat freaky freaky biatch heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I -- I didn't believe dis fo' a second.

 **SAM  
** But now you do.

 **CRAIG  
** I don't give a fuck what tha fuck tha hell ta think, man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass muthafuckas, I--I be bout ta rap exactly what tha fuck I holla'd all up in tha police, ok, biatch? That hoe was real. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack fo' realz. And dat biiiiatch was dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This was not a prank. I swear ta God, I don't wanna go anywhere near dat doggy den eva again, ok?

 **DEAN**  
Thanks.  
  
............................

EXTERIOR yo. HELL HOUSE. DAY.

SAM n' DEAN slush up tha muddy path ta tha house.

 **SAM  
** Can't say I blame tha kid.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, so much fo' curb appeal.

Cut ta dem both lookin around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! SAM comes back toward DEAN whoz ass is holdin tha EMF, which is makin sounds.

 **SAM  
** Yo ass gots something?

 **DEAN  
** (Tappin tha EMF) Ye-ah. Da EMFs no good.

 **SAM  
** Why?

 **DEAN  
** (Gesturin at overhead juice lines) I be thinkin dat thangz still gots a lil juice up in dat shit. It aint nuthin but screwin wit all tha readings.

 **SAM  
** Yeah that'd do dat shit.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah. Come on, letz go.

They head inside n' start lookin around.

 **DEAN  
** (Whistling) Looks like oldschool playa Murdock was a lil' bit of a tagger here up in his cold-ass time.

 **SAM  
** And afta his cold-ass time like a muthafucka. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists fo' centuries but dis sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Frankieo until tha '60s.

 **DEAN  
** (Starin at SAM) That is exactly why you never git laid.

 **DEAN  
** (Movin ta tha other wall) Yo what tha fuck bout dis one, you peeped dis one before?

(Gesturin at a symbol. It be a cold-ass lil cross wit a thugged-out dot up in tha middle. Da bottom stroke be lookin like a upside-down question mark.)

 **SAM  
** No.

 **DEAN  
** I have. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somewhere.

 **SAM  
** (Rubbin tha symbol) It aint nuthin but paint. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Seems pretty fresh like a muthafucka.

 **DEAN  
** I don't give a fuck Sam. Yo ass know I don't give a fuck bout ta smoke wit authoritizzle figurez of any kind yo, but ... tha cops may be right bout dis one.

 **SAM  
** Yeah, maybe.

A sudden noise has dem on alert. They take up positions either side of a thugged-out door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. DEAN nodz n' they bust all up in cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. Bright lights shine up in they eyes. 

 **GUY 1  
** Oh, cut. It aint nuthin but just a cold-ass lil coupla humans.

One muthafucka holdz a lil' small-ass electrical gadget, tha other a cold-ass lil camera which da perved-out muthafucka switches off. 

 **GUY 1  
** What is you muthafuckas bustin here?

 **DEAN  
** What they hell is you bustin here?

 **GUY 1  
** Ah-ha-ha. We belong here, we professionals?

 **DEAN  
** Professionizzle what?

 **GUY 1  
** Paranormal Investigators. (Dude handz dem both bidnizz cards) There you go, take a peep that, thugs.

 **DEAN  
** Oh you gotta be kiddin mah dirty ass.

 **SAM  
** Ed Zeddmore n' Harry Spangler, biatch? Hellhoundslair.com. Yo ass muthafuckas run dat joint.

 **ED  
** Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** Oh yeah, yeah, we big-ass fans. 

 **ED  
** And ahh, we know whoz ass you muthafuckas is like a muthafucka.

DEAN n' SAM both peep his ass sharply.

 **SAM  
** Oh yeah?

 **ED  
** Amateurs. (DEAN immediately loses interest) Lookin fo' pimps n' skanky thrills.

 **HARRY  
** Yep. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So if you muthafuckas don't mind, we tryin ta conduct a straight-up scientistical investigation here.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, what tha fuck have you gots so far?

 **ED  
** Harry, why doncha tell 'em bout EMF?

 **HARRY  
** Well...

 **SAM  
** (Playin dumb n' tryin not ta smile) EMF?

 **HARRY  
** Electromagnetic field, biatch? Spectral entitizzles can cause juice fluctuations dat can be read wit a EMF detector. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Like dis shitty pimp right here.

Dude turns it on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dean smirks at SAM. 

 **HARRY  
** Whoa. Whoa. It aint nuthin but 2.8mg.

 **ED  
** 2.8. It aint nuthin but bangin' up in here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

DEAN whistlez up in admiration.

 **SAM  
** Wow. 

 **DEAN  
** Huh. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So you muthafuckas eva straight-up peeped a pimp before, or...

 **ED  
** Once. Us thugs were, uh...we was investigatin dis oldschool doggy den n' we saw a vase fall right off tha table...

 **HARRY  
** By itself.

 **ED  
** Well, we, we we our phat asses didn't straight-up peep it, our crazy asses heard it fo' realz. And suttin' like dat n' like dis n' like dat y'all...it uh...it chizzlez you, biatch.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah. I be thinkin I git tha picture. We should go, let dem git back ta work.

 **ED  
** Yeah, you should.

 **DEAN  
** Sam.

 **ED  
** (As SAM n' DEAN leave) Yeah, work.

 **ED**  
(To HARRY) I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. That pot we smoked gave me tha giggles.  
  
............................

EXTERIOR. PUBLIC LIBRARY.

SAM exits n' comes down tha stairs as DEAN approaches. 

 **SAM  
** Hey.

 **DEAN  
** Hey. What you got?

 **SAM  
** Well I couldn't find a Mordechai but I did find a Martin Murdock whoz ass lived up in dat doggy den up in tha '30s yo. Dude did have lil pimps but only two of them, both thugs, n' there be a no evidence he eva capped mah playas.

 **DEAN  
** Huh.

 **SAM  
** What bout yo slick ass?

They have reached tha Impala n' stand poppin' off over tha top of dat shit. 

 **DEAN  
** Well dem lil playas didn't straight-up give our asses a cold-ass lil clear description of dat dead hoe but I did hit up tha five-o station. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. No matchin missin peeps. It aint nuthin but like she never existed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Dude, come on, our phat asses did our digging, dude, dis onez a funky-ass bust all right. For all we know dem hellHound thugs made up tha whole thang.

 **SAM  
** Yeah all right. 

 **DEAN  
** I say we find ourself a funky-ass bar n' some brews n' leave tha legend ta tha locals.

DEAN gets tha fuck into tha car. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM leans down, smiling, ta look up in tha window.

DEAN turns tha key up in tha ignition. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Latino pop-dizzle noize blasts from tha speakers; when Dean tries ta turn it off, tha wipers turn on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. DEAN rears back. 

 **DEAN  
** WHOA! What the...

Dude quickly reaches ta turn every last muthafuckin thang off.

SAM gets in, bustin up yo. Dude licks his wild lil' finger n' marks a imaginary '1' up in tha air then points ta his dirty ass.

 **DEAN  
** (Givin his ass a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty look) Thatz all you got, biatch? Weak. That is bush league. 

Da impala pulls away.  
  
............................

EXTERIOR yo. HELL HOUSE. NIGHT.

Two hoes n' a muthafucka approach tha house.

 **GUY  
** This is dat shit. Da point of no return.

 **GIRL 1  
** Why do I gotta go up in there?

 **GIRL 2  
** Because Jill you chose dare. Yo ass either gotta grab a jar from Mordechaiz cellar n' brang it back or....

 **GUY  
**...or you can make up wit mah dirty ass.

 **JILL  
** (givin dem both a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty look) I be bout ta take tha homicidal pimp, props.

She turns on her torch n' slowly approaches tha house, leavin tha other two behind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **GUY  
** Would you eva take dat dare?

 **GIRL (scoffs)  
** Hell no!

JILL cautiously moves inside. There be a noise like knives bein sharpened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **JILL  
** Hello, biatch? Hello, biatch? Is anybody there?

Da camera skits over some hangin chicken Nikes. Jill make her way ta tha cellar, looks around, n' moves toward tha jars. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch takes one yo, but hears a sound, whirls, n' drops tha jar, panicked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **JILL  
** Shut tha fuck up. Ok aiiight ok ok. 

She turns n' sees Mordechai yo. Dude throws a rope round her neck n' her big-ass booty screams n' keeps beatboxin as her ass is hoisted up in tha air. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. In tha last blasted it appears dat her ass is dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.


	3. ACT TWO

EXTERIOR yo. HELL HOUSE. DAWN.

Emergency vehiclez n' pimps move around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da girlz body is looted up on a stretcher n' shit. 

DEAN n' SAM approach a playa standin outside.

 **DEAN  
** What happened?

 **MAN  
** A coupla cops say a hoe hung her muthafuckin ass up in tha house.

 **SAM  
** Suicide?

 **MAN  
** Yeah. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was a straight A hustla, wit a gangbangin' full ride ta UT like a muthafucka. Well shiiiit, it just don't make sense.

Dude strutts away.

 **SAM  
** Whaddaya think?

 **DEAN**  
I be thinkin maybe we missed something.  
  
...........................

EXTERIOR yo. HELL HOUSE. NIGHT.

A five-o hoopty is parked outside, two cops stand around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! SAM n' DEAN crouch up in tha bushes. 

 **SAM  
** I guess tha cops don't want any suckas screwin round up in there.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah but we still gotta git up in there.

DEAN hears whispers n' peeks from they hidin place.

 **DEAN  
** I don't believe dat shit.

SAM spins ta look. ED n' HARRY is approaching: hunched over, bustin all sortz of gadgets, whisperin n' shh-in each other.

 **DEAN  
** I gots a idea.

Dude rises slightly, turns towardz tha cops n' cups a hand ta his crazy-ass grill.

 **DEAN  
** Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck ya gonna call!

 **ED n' HARRY  
** Wha...huh?

 **COP  
** Yo dawwwwg! You!

There be a muddled mixture of voices. 

_Freeze. Run! Come on! Git back here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Yo dawwwwg!_

Da cops chase ED n' HARRY back down tha path. Laughing, SAM n' DEAN cook up a funky-ass break fo' tha house. Once inside SAM breaks up tha rifles, handin one ta DEAN. DEAN turns on a gangbangin' flashlight.

 **DEAN  
** Where have I peeped dat symbol before, biatch? It aint nuthin but cappin' me biaatch!

 **SAM  
** Come on, our phat asses aint gots much time.

They go down ta tha basement n' look around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! DEAN spies tha jars n' picks one up fo' a cold-ass lil closer look. Da pale red liquid sloshes round inside.

 **DEAN  
** Yo Sam. I dare you ta take a swig of all dis bullshit.

 **SAM  
** What tha hell would I do dat for?

 **DEAN  
**.....I double dare you, biatch.

SAM just shakes his head, lookin away. DEAN grins fo' realz. A noise has dem both on alert n' they move toward tha cabinet fo' realz. At DEAN'S nod SAM opens tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Rats squeak n' run from tha torchlight.

 **DEAN  
** (Liftin his wild lil' feet) Arghh! I don't give a fuck bout rats, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. 

 **SAM  
** You'd rather dat shiznit was a pimp?

 **DEAN  
** Yes yes y'all.

Behind SAM'S head we can peep Mordechai has rocked up. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! SAM n' DEAN realise all up in tha same time n' swin round ta peep Mordechai raisin a axe above his head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! SAM blasts his ass twice but da perved-out muthafucka still there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. DEAN blasts his ass again n' again n' again n' he mists away.

 **SAM  
** What tha hell kind of spirit is immune ta rock salt?

 **DEAN  
** I dunno. Come on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Come on come on! 

As they run toward tha stairs Mordechai smashes his thugged-out axe down, catchin tha shelves n' brangin tha jars crashin down on DEAN. Mordechai n' SAM begin fighting.

 **SAM  
** Go! Git outta here!! 

Mordechai smashes tha electrical box n' sparks fly everywhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

SAM n' DEAN bolt fo' tha door.

...............................

Outside, ED n' HARRY creep back toward tha house.

 **HARRY  
** (Raisin his night vision goggles) Maybe we should just git outta here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

 **ED  
** No. Would Jizzy Edward go, biatch? We've lost tha cops, letz find our centre n' git some work done. Ok, biatch? All right?

As they approach tha porch, camera raised, SAM n' DEAN burst out. They fall all up in tha emergency tape n' roll down tha steps, sprang immediately ta they feet n' keep hustlin. 

 **DEAN  
** Git dat damn thang outta mah face

 **SAM  
** Go go go!

ED n' HARRY is still facin tha door n' peep Mordechai lurk. 

 **ED  
** Sweet Lord...

 **HARRY  
**..........of tha rings. RUN!!! GO GO GO 

They turn ta flee...and run straight tha fuck into tha armz of tha cops. 

 **HARRY  
** Look, there be a a...look. Therez a playa over there....I saw....where'd he go?

 **COPS  
** (Grabbin they collars) Thugs come on.

....................................

INTERIOR. MOTEL ROOM.

DEAN is chillin on tha bed drawin tha symbol, SAM is reseaching.

 **DEAN  
** What tha hell is dis symbol, biatch? It aint nuthin but buggin' tha hell outta mah dirty ass. This whole damn thangz buggin' mah dirty ass.. n' you KNOWS tha legend holla'd Mordechai only goes afta chicks.

 **SAM  
** It do.

 **DEAN  
** All right. Well I mean dat explains why da thug went afta you yo, but why me son?

 **SAM  
** Hilarious. Da legend also say dat schmoooove muthafucka hung his dirty ass but did you peep dem slit wrists?

 **DEAN  
** Yeah.

 **SAM  
** Whatz fuckin' phat wit that, biatch? And tha axe like a muthafucka. I mean, pimps is probably pretty strict, right, biatch? Peepin tha same patterns over n' over?

 **DEAN  
** But dis mook keeps changing.

 **SAM  
** (clickin away on his fuckin laptop) Exactly. I be spittin some lyrics ta ya, tha way tha rap goes ... wait a minute.

 **DEAN  
** What?

 **SAM  
** Someone added a freshly smoked up post ta tha Hell Hound site. Listen ta all dis bullshit. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was straight-up a Satanist whoz ass chopped up his suckas wit a axe before slittin his own wrists, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Now he imprisoned up in tha doggy den fo' eternity.

Still starin all up in tha symbol dat schmoooove muthafucka has drawn, DEAN suddenly sits straight up. 

 **SAM  
** Where tha hell is dis going?

 **DEAN  
** I don't give a fuck but I be thinkin I might have just figured up where all dat shiznit started.

.................................

INTERIOR. MUSIC STORE.

Craig is chillin all up in tha counta lookin pissed off.

 **DEAN  
** Yo Craig, biatch? Remember us?

 **CRAIG  
** Guys, look I be straight-up not up in tha vibe ta answer any of yo' thangs ok?

 **DEAN  
** Oh quit freakin' tha fuck out. Us playas just here ta loot a mixtape, thatz all.

DEAN flicks all up in n' picks up a mixtape.

 **DEAN  
** (To Sam as they approach tha counter) Yo ass know I couldn't git into what tha fuck dat symbol was n' then I realized dat it don't mean anything. It aint nuthin but tha logo fo' tha Blue Oysta Cult. 

 **DEAN  
** (To Craig) Tell me Craig, you, uh, you tha fuck into BOC, biatch? Or just scarin tha hell outta people, biatch? Now why 'n't you tell our asses bout dat doggy den ... without lyin all up in yo' ass dis time.

 **CRAIG  
** (Sighing) All right, um. My fuckin cousin Dana was on break from TCU fo' realz. Ah, I guess we was just bored, lookin fo' suttin' ta do. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I flossed her dis abandoned dump I found. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! We thought it would be funky if we juiced it up be lookin like dat shiznit was hustled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So we painted symbols on tha walls, some from some mixtapes, some from a shitload of Danaz theologizzle textbooks. Then we found up dis muthafucka Murdock used ta live there so we ...we made up some rap ta go along wit dis shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So they holla'd at people, whoz ass holla'd at other playas fo' realz. And then these two muthafuckas put it on they wack joint. Everythang just took on a game of its own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I mean I, I thought dat shiznit was funky at first but... now dat girlz dead hommie! Dat shiznit was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of dat shiznit was real, we made tha whole thang up. I swear son!

 **SAM  
** (Softly) All right.

SAM n' DEAN turn ta muthafuckin bounce.

 **DEAN  
** (To Sam) If none of dat shiznit was real how tha fuck tha hell do you explain Mordechai?


	4. ACT THREE

****

INTERIOR. MOTEL ROOM. 

Soundz of tha shower hustlin. DEAN entas n' strutts over ta SAMz bed, liftin a packet labelled 'Itchin Powder".

 **DEAN  
** (calls out) Yo, I be back.

 **SAM  
** (From bathroom) Yo, where was yo slick ass?

 **DEAN  
** Oh, I went out.

DEAN picks up SAMz underwear from tha bed n' shakes tha content of tha packet onto dat shit.

 **SAM  
** So I be thinkin I might gotz a theory bout what tha fuck be happenin.

 **DEAN  
** (Still bobbin) Oh yeah?

 **SAM  
** What if Mordechai be a Tulpa?

 **DEAN  
** Tulpa?

 **SAM  
** (Emergin from tha bathroom) Yeah, a Tibetan thought form.

 **DEAN  
** (Swingin round hastily) Ahh, yeah, I know what tha fuck a Tulpa is. Yo why don't you git dressed, I wanna go grab suttin' ta eat.

DEAN entas tha bathroom, smilin at SAM as his schmoooove ass closes tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM watches then turns ta pick up his underwear.

...............................

INTERIOR. EATING HOUSE.

 **SERVER  
** There you go gents.

 **DEAN  
** (takin they two coffees) Nuff props, biatch.

They make they way ta a table, SAM grimacin n' adjustin his jeans. 

 **DEAN  
** (watchin him) Dude whatz yo' problem?

 **SAM  
** Nothing, I be fine.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah?

 **SAM  
** Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** So, ahhh, all right keep going. What bout these Tulpas?

 **SAM  
** Ok, so there was dis incident up in Tibet up in 1915. Group of monks visualised a golem up in they head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da meditated on it so hard they looted tha thang ta game. Outta thin air.

 **DEAN  
** So?

 **SAM  
** That was 20 monks. Imagine what tha fuck 10,000 wizzy surfers could do. I mean Craig starts tha rap bout Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feelin dis shiznit! Now there be countless playas all believin up in tha bastard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **DEAN  
** Now wait a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Is you tryin ta tell me dat just cuz playas believe up in Mordechai, he real?

 **SAM (lookin uncomfortable)  
** I dunno, maybe.

 **DEAN  
** Muthafuckas believe up in Gangsta Claus -- how tha fuck come I aint gettin hooked up every last muthafuckin Chrizzle?

 **SAM  
** Cuz you a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shitty-ass person. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And cuz of this...

SAM turns his fuckin laptop, showin DEAN a photo of one of tha Hell Doggy Den symbols.

 **SAM  
** Thatz a Tibetan spirit sigil. On tha wall of tha house. Craig holla'd they was paintin symbols from a theologizzle textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowin what tha fuck it was. Now dat sigil has been used fo' centuries, concentratin meditatizzle thoughts like a magnifyin glass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So playas is on tha HellHoundz joint, starin all up in tha symbol, thankin bout Mordechai ... I mean I don't give a fuck yo, but it might be enough ta brang a Tulpa ta game. 

 **DEAN  
** It would explain why he keeps changing.

 **SAM  
** (Grimacin n' adjustin his dirty ass again) Right, as tha legend chizzles, playas be thinkin different thangs, so Mordechai his dirty ass chizzles. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why tha rock salt didn't work.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah cuz he not a traditionizzle spirit, n' I aint talkin bout no muthafuckin Jack Daniels neither.

 **SAM  
** (Still figeting) Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** Shut tha fuck up. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So why don't our laid-back asses just...uhh ... git dis spirit sigil thangie off tha wall n' off tha joint?

 **SAM  
** Well it aint dat simple. Yo ass see, once Tulpas is pimped they take on a game of they own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **DEAN  
** Great. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So if he straight-up be a thought form how tha fuck tha hell is we supposed ta bust a cap up in a idea?

 **SAM  
** (still itchin n' adjusting) Well it aint gonna be easy as fuck wit these muthafuckas helpin our asses yo. Hit up they home page.

SAM shows DEAN footage from tha previous night. 

 **SAM  
** Since they've posted tha vizzle they number of hits have quadrupled up in tha last dizzle ridin' solo.

 **DEAN  
** Hmph. I gots a idea. Come on.

 **SAM  
** Where we going?

 **DEAN  
** We gotta find a cold-ass lil copy store.

They rise ta bounce tha fuck out.

 **SAM  
** (itchin n' jiggling) Man, I be thinkin I be allergic ta our soap or something.

DEAN laughs as da thug strutts away.

 **SAM  
** Yo ass did this?

DEAN continues laughing.

 **SAM  
** Yo ass be a gangbangin' friggin jerk!

 **DEAN  
** Oh yeah.

............................

TRAILER PARK.

ED n' HARRY sit up in a traila wit all they shit.

 **HARRY.  
** Fuck dat shit, no, no, forget dat shit. Forget dat shiznit son! I aint goin back up in there again.

 **ED  
** Harry. Look all up in mah face. Right here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Ok, biatch? Yo ass be a pimp hunter, ok?

 **HARRY  
** I know but, Ed, I've never peeped a real pimp before Ed, like a real pimp, a apparition!

 **ED  
** This shiznit here...this is our ticket ta tha big-ass time right here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Hype, scrilla, sex. With hoes. OK, biatch? Be brave. WWBD. What Would Buffy Do. huh?

 **HARRY  
** (Whispers) What would Buffy do. But Ed, her big-ass booty stronger than mah dirty ass.

 **ED  
** It aint nuthin but ok. 

There be a poundin on tha door yo. HARRY jumps a gangbangin' foot up in tha air n' squeals.

 **HARRY  
** Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck is it?

 **DEAN  
** Come on up here muthafuckas, our crazy asses hear you up in there.

 **ED  
** It aint nuthin but them!

They stick they headz up tha door.

 **DEAN  
** Ah, would you peep dat son! Action figures up in they original gangsta packagin -- what tha fuck a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shock. 

 **SAM  
** Guys, we need ta talk.

 **ED  
** Yeah, um, sorry muthafuckas. We ahhh, a lil bit busy n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do.

 **DEAN  
** Ok well we'll make it quick. We need you ta shut down yo' joint.

 **ED  
** (Laughing) Man, you know, these muthafuckas gots our asses busted last night, dropped tha night up in a holdin cell...

 **HARRY  
** I had ta pizzle up in dat cell urinal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. In front of playas fo' realz. And I git stage fright.

 **ED  
** Why should we trust you muthafuckas?

 **SAM  
** Look muthafuckas. We all know what tha fuck we saw last night, whatz up in tha house. But now props ta yo' joint there be thousandz of playas hearin bout Mordechai. 

 **DEAN  
** Thatz right. Which means playas is gonna keep showin up all up in tha Hell House, hustlin tha fuck into his ass up in person, some muthafucka could git hurt.

 **ED  
** Yeah, yeah...

 **HARRY  
** Ed maybe he gots a point, maybe....

 **ED  
** Nope...

 **HARRY  
** No.

 **ED  
** Our thugged-out asses have a obligation ta our fans, ta tha real deal.

 **DEAN  
** Well I gots a obligation ta kick both yo' lil asses right now --

 **SAM  
** Dean--Dean, hey, hey, just, forget it, all right, biatch? These muthafuckas ... (sigh) probably biiiatch slap dem both, I could probably even tell dem dat thang bout Mordechai ... but they still not gonna help us. Letz just go. 

 **ED n' HARRY  
** Whoa.. whoa...

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, you right.

SAM n' DEAN start ta strutt away, ED n' HARRY trailin behind.

 **ED  
** What you say about...?

 **HARRY  
** Hang on a second here.

 **ED  
** Wait...wait.

 **HARRY  
** What thang bout Mordechai you muthafuckas?

 **DEAN  
** Don't tell 'em Sam.

 **SAM  
** But if they smoke ta shut tha joint down Dean.

 **DEAN  
** They're not goin ta do it, you holla'd so yo ass.

 **ED  
** No wait. Wait. Don't dig his ass ok, biatch? We bout ta do dat shit. We bout ta do dat shit.

 **DEAN  
** It aint nuthin but a secret Sam.

 **SAM  
** (to ED n' HARRY) Look, it aint nuthin but a straight-up big-ass deal all right fo' realz. And it wasn't easy as fuck ta dig up. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So only if our crazy asses have yo' word dat you gonna shut every last muthafuckin thang down.

 **ED  
** Totally.

 **SAM  
** All right. 

DEAN handz dem some paperwork.

 **SAM  
** It aint nuthin but a thugged-out dirtnap certificate. From tha '30s. We gots it all up in tha library. Now accordin ta tha coroner, tha actual cause of dirtnap was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

 **DEAN  
** Thatz right da ruffneck didn't hang or cut his dirty ass.

 **ED  
** Dude blasted his dirty ass?

 **SAM  
** Yep. With a .45 pistol. To dis dizzle they say tha pimpin' muthafucka terrified of dem wild-ass muthafuckas.

 **DEAN  
** Matta of fact they say if you blast his ass wit a .45, loaded wit these special wrought-iron roundz -- it'll bust a cap up in tha sonuvabitch.

ED n' HARRY snigger gleefully yo. Harry spins n' bolts back toward tha trailer, ED bigs up mo' slowly.

 **ED  
** Harry. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Slow yo' roll dawg. They're gonna know we excited.

.....................................

INTERIOR. CAFE

SAM n' DEAN sit up in a funky-ass booth, SAM lookin at his fuckin laptop. DEAN reaches up ta tha 3D artwork of a gangbangin' fisherman holdin a funky-ass big-ass fish n' pulls tha cord. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da fishermanz grill moves up n' down n' a mad buggin laugh plays.

 **SAM  
** (pullin tha cord ta stop it) If you pull dat strang one mo' time I'ma bust a cap up in you, biatch.

DEAN, deadpan, stares at SAM while pullin tha cord again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sam immediately stops it, glarin at Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **DEAN  
** (snickering) Come on dude, you need mo' laughta up in yo' game. Yo ass know you way too tense. 

SAM gives DEAN another dirty look. DEAN sighs. 

 **DEAN  
** They post it yet?

SAM moves tha laptop round so DEAN can peep it n' stabs at his salad angrily.

 **DEAN  
** (Reading) We've hustled from reputable sources dat Mordechai Murdock has a gangbangin' fatal fear of firearms fo' realz. All right yo. How tha fuck long do we wait?

 **SAM  
** Long enough fo' tha freshly smoked up rap ta spread, n' tha legend ta chizzle. I figure by nightfall iron roundz will work on tha sucker n' shit. 

SAM holdz his brew up ta DEAN, whoz ass lifts his own n' taps dat shit. 

 **DEAN  
** Sweet.

DEAN takes a long-ass drank n' SAM starts grinning. DEAN goes ta put tha forty down but it is stuck ta his hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! SAM cracks up as DEAN stares at it, confused. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass didn't.

 **SAM  
** (Bustin up n' holdin up supa glue) oh, I did dawwwg!

Dean shakes his hand while SAM, laughing, pulls tha strang ta set tha fisherman bustin up again.


	5. ACT FOUR

EXTERIOR yo. HELL HOUSE. NIGHT. 

Da two cops is searchin tha surroundz wit they torches.

 **COP 1  
** I be spittin some lyrics ta ya, I heard something. Comin from over there.

Da noise of tha fisherman bustin up can be heard.

 **COP 1  
** See, biatch? See, biatch? There it be again.

 **COP 2  
** What tha fuck iz tha....

They find tha fisherman stuck up in a tree, laughing.

..............................

INTERIOR yo. HELL HOUSE.

DEAN n' then SAM enta tha doggy den on alert, glocks drawn, n' begin a methodical search, stayin back ta back. DEAN readjusts his wild lil' freakadelic glock hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **DEAN  
** (Snarky) I barely have any skin left on mah palm.

 **SAM  
** I aint touchin dat line wit a ten foot pole.

DEAN shines his wild lil' flashlight up in SAM'S grill until da thug winces, then moves tha fuck into tha other room. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM bigs up. 

 **DEAN  
** So you be thinkin oldschool Mordechaiz home?

 **SAM  
** I don't give a gangbangin' fuck.

 **ED  
** (From behind) Me either n' shit. 

SAM n' DEAN spin, pointin they glocks at ED n' HARRY.

 **ED  
** WHOA!! WHOA!!

 **SAM  
** What is you tryin ta do, git yo ass capped?

 **ED  
** Us playas just tryin ta git a funky-ass book n' porno deal, ok, biatch? 

From tha basement comes tha sound of knives bein sharpened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! SAM n' DEAN is immediately back on alert. 

 **ED  
** Oh crap.

ED n' HARRY crowd up in close behind SAM n' DEAN wit they camera.

 **ED  
** Ah muthafuckas, you wanna ... you wanna open dat door fo' us?

 **DEAN  
** Why don't yo slick ass?

Mordechai bursts all up in tha door holdin a axe n' screaming. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM n' DEAN empty they glock chambers yo. Dude holdz on, then wavers n' disappears tha fuck into mist. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM n' DEAN wait a funky-ass beat, then take off ta ensure tha other rooms is clear.

 **ED  
** Oh Dogg. Dat punk gone. Dat punk gone.

 **HARRY  
** Did yo dirty ass git him?

 **ED  
** Yeah they gots his muthafuckin ass.

 **HARRY  
** Fuck dat shit, on camera, did you git his ass on camera.

 **ED  
** Ah, ah, I ...

 **HARRY  
** Let me peep it, let me peep dat shit.

HARRY takes tha camera n' flips it open. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Mordechai appears, slams his thugged-out axe all up in tha camera, forcin HARRY ta tha ground n' disappears again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **DEAN runs in.  
** Yo dawwwwg! Didn't you muthafuckas post dat B.S. rap we gave yo slick ass?

 **ED  
** Of course our phat asses done did.

SAM appears up in tha other door, glock all up in tha ready.

 **HARRY  
** But then our server crashed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **ED  
** Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** So it didn't take?

 **ED n' HARRY  
** UH...mmm....

 **DEAN  
** So these, these glocks don't work.

 **ED  
** Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** Great. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sam, any ideas?

 **HARRY  
** We is gettin outta here.

 **ED  
** Yeah. Come on, Ed (Harry says, grabbin Ed).

HARRY n' ED run past DEAN ta tha other room, where Mordechai appears again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Screaming, they run ta tha front door but it is locked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Mordechai bigs up dem wild-ass muthafuckas.

 **HARRY  
** Jizzy Mary n' Joseph.

 **ED  
** Da juice of Christ compels you, tha juice of Christ compels you, biatch. THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!!!

 **SAM  
** (Behind them) HEY! Come n' git it you skanky lil hustla of a funky-ass biiiatch.

They fight until Mordechai pins SAM against tha wall, axe across his cold-ass throat.

 **SAM  
** (To ED n' HARRY) Git outta here, now!

 **ED  
** We outta here...

DEAN is up in tha other room splashin kerosene everywhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Mordechai lifts SAM off his wild lil' feet wit tha heat of tha axe at his cold-ass throat.

 **SAM  
** (Gasping) Dean!

 **DEAN appears.  
** HEY!

DEAN holdz up a spray forty n' lights tha gas, a plume of fire appears.

 **DEAN  
** (To SAM) Go go go!

SAM runs past him, DEAN bigs up, pullin SAM as da perved-out muthafucka stops n' leans over, holdin his cold-ass throat.

 **DEAN  
** Mordechai can't leave tha house, we can't bust a cap up in his ass -- We improvise.

DEAN holdz up his fuckin lighter, flicks it, n' throws it back tha fuck into tha room. Well shiiiit, it bursts tha fuck into flame n' tha thugs run outside.

 **SAM  
** Thatz yo' solution, biatch? Burn tha whole damn place ta tha ground?

 **DEAN  
** Well no muthafucka will go up in no mo'. I mean look, Mordechai can't haunt a doggy den if there be a no doggy den ta haunt. It aint nuthin but fast n' dirty but it works.

 **SAM  
** Well what tha fuck if tha legend chizzlez again n' again n' again n' Mordechai be allowed ta leave tha house?

 **DEAN  
** Well -- well then we'll just gotta come back.

They peep tha doggy den burn.

 **SAM  
** Kinda make you wonder n' shit. Of all tha thang our crazy asses hunted, how tha fuck nuff existed just cuz playas believed up in dem wild-ass muthafuckas. 


	6. ACT FIVE

SAM n' DEAN is ridin by a picnic table all up in tha traila park. ED n' HARRY approach carryin grocery bags. 

 **HARRY  
** I was thankin dat Mordechai has a straight-up supa high battle bonus.

 **ED  
** Man I gots tha munchies n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do. (To SAM n' DEAN) Gentlemen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **SAM  
** Yo muthafuckas.

 **HARRY  
** Should we tell 'em.

 **ED  
** Yo, might as well, you know, they goin ta read bout it up in tha trades.

 **HARRY  
** So dis mornin we gots a funky-ass beeper call from a straight-up blingin Hollywood baller.

 **DEAN  
** Oh yeah, wack number?

 **ED  
** Fuck dat shit, smart-ass yo. Dude read all bout tha Hell Doggy Den on our joint n' wants ta option tha motion picture rights, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Maybe even have our asses write dat shit.

Da place they grocery bags tha fuck into a straight-up overloaded car.

 **HARRY  
** And create tha RPG.

 **DEAN  
** Da what?

 **ED  
** Role playin game.

 **DEAN  
** Right.

 **ED  
** A lil lingo fo' you, biatch fo' realz. Anyhoo, ahhh, excuse us, we off ta la-la land.

 **SAM  
** Well props muthafuckas. That soundz straight-up pimped out.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah. Thatz phat, dopest of luck ta you, biatch.

 **ED  
** Oh yeah, luck. That has not a god damn thang ta do wit dat shit. It aint nuthin but bout talent. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sheer unabashed talent.

They all nod at each other.

 **ED (makes a hand gesture)  
** Later.

They git up in tha hoopty n' start pullin off. 

 **ED  
** See ya round...

 **DEAN  
** (watchin dem leave) Wow.

 **SAM  
** I gots a cold-ass lil confession ta make.

 **DEAN  
** Whatz all dis bullshit.

 **SAM  
** I, uh...I was tha one dat called dem n' holla'd at dem I was a baller.

 **DEAN  
** (Laughing) Yeah well I be tha one whoz ass put tha dead fish up in they back seat.

Sam laughs. They both laugh.

 **SAM  
** Truce?

 **DEAN  
** Yeah truce fo' realz. At least fo' tha next 100 miles.

They climb tha fuck into tha Impala n' take off.

 _MUSIC: Blue-ysta Cult­- Burnin' fo' Yo Ass_  


End file.
